and a man of slender form, who was struggling furiously, and with
an energy which would not have been suspected, appeared, held on
one side by a gendarme, and on the other by a domestic.

The struggle had already lasted long, and his clothes were in great
disorder. His new coat was torn, his cravat floated in strips, the
button of his collar had been wrenched off, and his open shirt left
his breast bare. In the vestibule and court were heard the frantic
cries of the servants and the curious crowd--of whom there were
more than a hundred, whom the news of the crime had collected about
the gate, and who burned to hear, and above all to see.

This enraged crowd cried:

"It is he! Death to the assassin! It is Guespin! See him!"

And the wretch, inspired by an immense fright, continued to struggle.

"Help!" shouted he hoarsely. "Leave me alone. I am innocent!"

He had posted himself against the drawing-room door, and they could
not force him forward.

"Push him," ordered the mayor, "push him."

It was easier to command than to execute. Terror lent to Guespin
enormous force. But it occurred to the doctor to open the second
wing of the door; the support failed the wretch, and he fell, or
rather rolled at the foot of the table at which the judge of
instruction was seated. He was straightway on his feet again, and